Picking Up The Pieces
by Bittersweet.Harlequin
Summary: As Magneto and Mystique were about to leave Alkali Lake, they spotted a boy standing on a snowy hilltop. John hastily entered the helicopter, hoping that he'd finally found a place to call home. —Follows Pyro from the end of X2 to the beginning of X3—
1. A God Among Insects

**Disclaimer**: All the X—Men characters belong to Marvel Entertainment

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><p>John Allerdyce never fit in with the X—Men. He hated having to suppress his power and <em>only use it when necessary<em>. Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters taught him control, or at least, it was supposed to.

Ever since he'd blown up that police car at Bobby's house — no, ever since he'd met Magneto in the X—Jet, something in him had changed. His eyes were finally open to what being a mutant was all about; it wasn't about hiding and blending in with the humans, it was about conquering the world.

Granted, leaving behind his friends sucked, even though Bobby and Rogue probably wouldn't care. John never dared to miss that godforsaken school.

"What are you thinking about, Pyro?" Magneto asked, taking a seat next to the boy on the stolen aircraft.

_Pyro_. John would have to become accustom to the new name, seeing as Magneto would never call him anything else. A small smile crossed the pyrokinetic's chapped lips as he flicked open his shark Zippo.

Magneto moved his fingers slightly, lifting Pyro's lighter inches above his hand. "I hope you don't regret your decision to come with us."

"Absolutely not." John replied rather quickly, snatching his Zippo from the air. He pressed his thumb against the striker, a small flame dancing at his command. "Where are we going anyway?"

Magneto chuckled, his form of an answer.

The surprisingly smooth helicopter ride took hours. After being airborne with Storm and the rest of the crew for the past few days, John couldn't wait to get his feet on solid ground and keep them there. His starving stomach lurched at the sudden landing. His window revealed a lackluster building, off the coast of some unknown island. Magneto went to great lengths to keep the location of his home off the map.

"This is it?" John snickered, stepping out of the helicopter and onto the damp walkway leading to Magneto's lair. A gust of cold air hit him immediately; his body involuntarily shivered. If it weren't for Stryker's attack on the mansion during the middle of the night, he would've been able to grab some decent clothes. The young mutant was still in his black jogging pants and thin, gray, long sleeved shirt. Luckily, he'd borrowed a jacket from the X—Jet, although the azure X—Men emblem on the left sleeve reminded him of everyone he'd left behind.

A musky smell consumed John's nostrils and he sneezed because of it. "It's a little dark, don't ya think?" The body of water around the building made the pyrokinetic uncomfortable.

Magneto didn't have time to chat; he ignored Pyro and walked inside, leaving Mystique to catch up their newest recruit.

"It's not as comfortable as Xavier's mansion, but you're always free to use your powers here." Mystique's unnatural voice somehow set John at ease. She smiled vaguely, then motioned for the teenager to follow as she entered the metal building.

"Oh really?" The goose bumps covering his arms faded the second he stepped into the steel chamber. Pyro clicked his lighter open and closed continuously, a habit he'd never be able to kick.

"I'm not entirely sure why you chose to come with us." Mystique remarked, leading John through a series of empty hallways.

_Good question. _Pyro opened his mouth to explain, then decided to change the subject. "So why doesn't Magneto hire a decorator? This place could use a little sprucing up—" Mystique rolled her yellow eyes, pointing to a metal, spiral staircase. "Don'tcha think?"

"The upper level is mostly used for containment, you'll find a spare room somewhere on one of the low levels."

"You want me to go down there?" Pyro joined her in pointing. "By myself?"

Mystique blinked. "You're gonna be a pain in my ass, aren't you?" Her hand dropped from the air and landed on her hip, unamused.

There was no point in lying. "Probably." John chuckled, keeping his laughter to a minimum around the blue mutant.

The woman sighed, murmuring profanities under her breath while descending down the stairs. "You can explore all you want, there's not much here. Magneto likes to keep as much attention off this place as possible."

The two stood in a drab steel room with various out—of—date exercise machines and a small TV mounted to the ceiling. "So a decorator's out of the question?" Pyro opened his lighter once again, the incessant clinking noise driving Mystique to the brink of insanity.

She thought a while before finally responding, "Yes, a decorator is very much, _out of the question_."

"Pyro, come with me." Magneto's voice, from behind them, broke the tension radiating through the walls. The pyrokinetic did as he was told, trailing behind his new leader. "You can sleep here." John smirked at Magneto's monotone voice.

"Fancy." The mutant shook his head at the bleak room that could've been designed by a prisoner, only without the urinal in the corner. Then again, the runway wouldn't complain about a roof over his head.

As Magneto turned to leave, Pyro stepped towards him. "Wait..." Magneto turned his head slightly, viewing the boy out of his peripheral vision. "Thank you." John had never been good at expressing his _feelings_ or anything of the sort. He stood, half in the room which he would now call his, and half in the echoing corridor, his grayish—blue eyes shimmering under the fluorescent lighting.

Magneto's jaw hardened as if he were about to speak. However, as the angsty teen's gaze met his, he realized he had no words. With a quick nod, Magneto disappeared into the darkness at the end of the hall.

_You are a god among insects, never let anyone tell you different. _Magneto's words replayed themselves inside John's head. That is, until he crawled into his new bed and drifted to sleep.


	2. Orange Juice Feud

**Author's Note:** I'm not gonna lie, I really don't know where this is going. Hmmm... I guess we'll find out. Feedback is appreciated.

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><p>John woke abruptly, clutching his chest and rubbing his temples from the haunting memories that consumed his subconscious. For a split second, he thought everything that had happened the day prior was a dream. No such luck. He was no longer under Professor Xavier's rules, or protection.<p>

He grabbed his Zippo at the sound of muffled noises coming from outside his dreary room, and ran a hand through his matted, tawny hair in desperate need of a good cleaning. With a sharp breath, the pyrokinetic carefully turned the silver knob. His eyes instantly adjusted to the dim light coming from underneath a white door at the end of the narrow hallway. He couldn't make out any of the words, but he knew one thing for sure: it was Mystique's voice.

Tiptoeing across the cold floor, Pyro listened intently. He chewed on the inside of his bottom lip, praying the more experienced mutant didn't catch him. Even with his head pressed firmly against the wall, he didn't understand the sounds. Eventually, Mystique stopped whatever she had been doing, and an eerie silence fell over the teenager.

He stood and brushed himself off, clicking on his lighter. The fire made a great source of light in the dark lower level. "What are you doing?" Mystique's tone froze every muscle in Pyro's body. As he turned to face her, she crossed her arms over her chest and huffed.

He shut his lighter; Mystique's nightlight made his fire obsolete. "Well you...you ummm... I—I..." After stuttering like an idiot, he managed to compose himself. "You talk in your sleep."

"Yeah..." Mystique adjusted her crimson silk nightgown, pulling it closer to her dazzling blue skin. John couldn't help but stare at her curves. "Sorry if I woke you."

Pyro struggled to swallow, clearing his throat after tearing his eyes away from her. "No, you're fine." _Really, really fine._

"You should go back to sleep, it's the middle of the night." Mystique backed herself into her room, glancing over the boy.

"Sweet dreams." Pyro mumbled, flicking his Zippo open once again. He levitated a small flame above his right hand, his personal version of a torch.

John's sensitive ears picked up Mystique's whisper, "Night," and he smiled before going back his room.

At six in the morning, Magneto decided to turn on all the florescent, migraine—inducing, lights. Pyro grumbled, then accidently stretched too far and fell out of his bed. His porcelain face collided with the metallic floor. "Fuck," he muttered, reaching up to grab his lighter.

It took everything in him to stand. _What the hell am I doing here?_ He thought to himself, letting out a heavy sigh. Oddly enough, some fresh, neatly folded, clothes waited for him outside his door. He peeled off his pajamas from two nights ago, and replaced them with a clingy black T—shirt and blue jeans, that fit his toned abdomen perfectly.

After a few minutes of mindless gallivanting, John stumbled upon a chrome kitchen, Magneto's doing he guessed. Mystique sat, hunched over a bowl of super healthy cereal that probably had zero flavor. "Out of cocoa puffs?" The boy grinned, craving something sweet.

"Do you always greet people with sarcasm?" Mystique fired back, never lifting her pupils from the newspaper beside her.

"Depends on my mood I guess." He opened the fridge, only to find that it contained _chick food_. He safely assumed Mystique did all the grocery shopping. "So you sleep with a nightlight." The inflection in his voice lifted, making his statement sound more like a question.

"Are you looking for a fight?" She asked, a little too playfully to be taken as a threat.

"Na, just trying to make conversation." He pulled out a carton of pulp—free orange juice, then began to wonder where the _so—called_ _villains_ kept their cups. "Gonna help me out?"

Mystique flipped the paper to the next page, her eyes still glued to the biased stories about the events at Alkali Lake; the media referred to it as a tragedy. If only they knew what really happened.

"Do you know where the cups are? Or a glass?" John desperately attempted to get her attention; his laziness handicapped him from looking for one himself.

The blue mutant shuddered at the naivety of humans and slid the newspaper across the table. "I'm sorry, what?" She finally looked at Pyro, who was holding a half—empty container of _her _orange juice.

"A bowl? A beer bong? Anything circular that I can drink out of?"

Mystique stood and snatched the carton out of his hand. "You're not drinking my orange juice."

"Oh c'mon." He pleaded, eyeing her as she opened the fridge. "Please?"

She smiled and nodded her head yes, then flatly said, "No."

"What am I supposed to drink, or eat for that matter? This kitchen isn't exactly teenage friendly." His brow creased when he finally spotted the boxes of bland, vitamin coated cereals.

A low growl caught itself in Mystique's throat. "Fine. But when we go into town, get your own damn orange juice."

Pyro's eyes lit up. "We're going into town?"

"Take a shower, you reek." The woman commanded, exiting the kitchen.

"Wait, Mystique! Where's the—" She'd vanished by the time he peaked around the corner. "Bathroom."

Magneto's lair and a labyrinth, they were synonymous in Pyro's mind. He'd barely found the kitchen, how did Mystique expect him to find a bathroom? After opening every door possible in the entire lower level, he concluded that Mystique had been playing with him; his dreams of bathing shattered.

He sat on the edge of his bed, playing with his Zippo, his bladder full after chugging Mystique's beverage an hour ago. A giggle from across the hall distracted his thoughts. "You are really dumb." A gorgeous blonde murmured, her sultry voice lifting John's spirits. Somewhere in the back of his head, the teenager knew the woman standing in his doorway was Mystique playing mind games; however, that didn't stop him from fantasizing about her.

"And why's that?" He raised an eyebrow, leaning against the wall in his 'yeah, I'm hot' position.

She leaned in, her cherry red lips brushing the tip of the pyrokinetic's ear. "There's a bathroom, right behind you."

His face snapped in the opposite direction, analyzing a blank, metal wall. "No there's—" He'd completely overlooked the odd, scanner—like object protruding out. "The door's motion activated, isn't it?"

Mystique nodded, her blue skin returned.

"Fancy," he scoffed, gawking at the ultra clean shower, toilet, mirror, and sink. He narrowed his eyes at the mutant, and made a mental note that he'd have to go exploring again in search for secret passages and trap doors.

"Hurry up. Magneto's given us errands to run."


	3. Fire Versus Ice

**Author's Note: **I'm SUPER sorry about the wait. I moved across country to set up for college so it's been crazy. Thank you for all the watches and favs! And yes, I will address the age difference shortly. Also, seeing as this is based on the movies, I thought it'd be fitting to have Mystique's history come from X—Men First Class. More on that later. :) Feedback's always appreciated. And if you find any spelling mistakes or things, feel free to PM me so I can change them. I'm only human. (But I wish I was a mutant)

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><p>Leaving the lair shattered the illusion of its secrecy, even though there was a long blindfold debate amongst the two. "I don't need a blindfold, you can trust me." John shouted over the aircraft noise.<p>

"Never trust a bad guy." Mystique smirked, reveling in the fact that she'd chosen the dark side. It wasn't an easy decision, leaving her best friend, her brother, on the beach, but when it came down to it, her and Charles wanted different things for the mutant society.

"This place is so well hidden even Santa couldn't find it." Pyro commented, looking back at the supposedly uninhabited Huckleberry Island. Magneto picked the spot for his lair based on its closeness to New York and Xavier's School, plus the fact that he could keep it secure. After he'd bought it, using a fake identity of course, he tore down the bridge connecting the island to the mainland and started building his metal sanctuary. The only downside was transportation; he and Mystique were forced to fly most everywhere. "Did you get a hot stewardess outfit in flying school?"

"It's a skill I picked up." She steered the helicopter north. "When your only choice is to fly, you adapt."

"Is that a no on the outfit?" John smiled, watching her out of the corner of his eye. Mystique moved her hands swiftly, knowing exactly what buttons to push and when. _I bet she kicks ass at video games._ His thoughts wondered, weaving his shark Zippo in between his fingers.

Per Magneto's request, Mystique and the new recruit had to dump the stolen helicopter in the middle of nowhere, then burn it. A task made simple by traveling with a temperamental pyrokinetic. However, John's tattered shoes weren't exactly in the best shape for walking. He didn't say anything, but Mystique noticed him wincing.

"How are we gonna get back? Steal something else that'll just be burned tomorrow?" Pyro gripped onto his lighter, hoping she'd say yes.

The orange glow from the wreckage illuminated Mystique's face in a way that made her blue skin softer... different... not so deadly. "No, Magneto will pick us up when we're done."

"About that. What exactly are we doing?" They turned away from the blaze, needing to move before the firemen arrived.

"_We're_ not doing anything. You're shopping for whatever it is you need and I'm — I'm looking into some things." Mystique's blue skin faded, replaced by a creamy complexion and an outfit that left little to the imagination.

"That's specific." John mumbled, kicking a small rock out of his way.

"I don't need to justify myself to you." Raven's new voice dripped with annoyance and John couldn't figure out why, he'd been no more annoying than usual.

They walked for what felt like hours, and in silence. John hated the silence and as soon as he started to whistle, Mystique shot him a you'd—better—stop—or—I'll—kill—you look; he grudgingly complied. "What's your problem anyway?"

Mystique roughly grabbed his shoulder and spun him around. "Look at me." That was all she needed to say for him to nod his head. She hated hiding her true form.

The Wal—Mart logo meant civilization, and the Westchester County sign meant they were close to the school. "Here." Raven shoved a shiny plastic credit card in Pyro's face. "Don't spend too much." He timidly took it from her. The name on the platinum card read: Dustin R Frederick. "I'll be back in an hour... _Dustin_." She ran her pale fingers through her bleach blonde curls. "Get some new shoes."

Through her piercing cobalt eyes John could tell that she cared, even if she wouldn't admit it. The second she stuck out her thumb, a rusty pickup truck pulled beside her. The driver, an obvious misogynist, quickly asked, "Hey sexy, how much?" She winked towards the pyrokinetic after crawling into the passenger's side. John, or rather, Dustin, only smirked, his head imagining a hundred different scenarios of what the mutant would do to the man and how she would steal the automobile.

The mutant casually combed through the racks of graphic T—shirts. He pulled a few out at random and tossed them over his shoulder. He wasn't picky about his clothing, as long as it fit.

"John." Pyro paused, shutting his eyes momentarily. He knew that voice. He knew it well.

The teenager turned, facing his only friend from the mansion. "Bobby! How are ya?" John attempted to make light of the situation, he knew that Bobby probably hated him for leaving. Pyro's justification was that Iceman didn't understand what it was like to having fire running through his veins.

Bobby tightened his jaw. "You left us. You left us and Jean died!" A family of three started to stare, Pyro waved them away.

"Okay, so not good. Do you honestly think my being there would've changed anything?" John knew he was right, and Bobby did too, but that didn't help the furious Iceman to feel any different. "You're better off without me." Pyro didn't want to fight, not in the middle of Wal—Mart, not with the boy who he once trusted; then again, he loved a good fight.

"You always were reckless, but I never thought you'd—"

John didn't like where that was going. "Thought I'd what? What did you think was gonna happen? I'd learn to control my power and then teach at the school? No. Hell no. That's your life, not mine."

Bobby usually played it cool, he let things roll off his shoulders. It took a lot to piss him off, but Pyro's departure hit him harder than anyone anticipated. "So you became a villain?"

Pyro merely scoffed, the question could answer itself. "Why aren't you in school?"

Bobby's rage dissipated, filled with disappointment and sadness. Jean's death weighed heavily on his mind. "Call it a fieldtrip."

"Bobby!" Rogue called from a distance.

John knew it was time to disappear. "See you around." Pyro promised, a sly grin sneaking across his lips. The mutants knew one day they'd have their battle, and they'd finally see who would win the classic story of fire versus ice.

"Bye." Bobby whispered, nodding at John before leaving to find his girlfriend.

The pyrokinetic gathered the rest of what he needed to survive in the metal chamber. He grabbed the most colorful and sugarcoated cereals he could find, then stocked up on pulp—free orange juice. He also snatched a Sharpie to write his name on the things that he claimed as his.

John chose the self checkout lane instead of a cashier, not sure if he could pull off being Dustin; he had a shitty poker face. He glanced over at lane thirteen, where Rogue, Bobby, and a handful of other mutants were checking out candy and comfort items. The exit doors swung open automatically; he couldn't get out of there fast enough.

"Perfect timing." Raven noted, pulling the truck over. "Have fun shopping?"

The grocery bags crinkled as he placed them in the backseat. "Oh yes, loads."


End file.
